


Scattered Beginnings

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-10 10:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10435371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: One day, a human falls into the Underground.





	1. At The Beginning

##  XX

Well, it's a long story? I'm not sure where we should begin.

The beginning? Well, yes. I suppose that would make the most sense, wouldn't it?

The year is 201X . . .

##  X0

Your first thought: “I should be dead.”

Your second: “I'm not.” You are less shaken by the first thought than you expected, but the second is enough to force your eyes open and glance at the world around you. 

Familiar golden flowers sit beneath you, and as you push yourself up to a sitting position you feel them under your hands. _Golden flowers; they must have broken your fall._ You imagine this to be your third thought.

A thin ray of light falls from the hole in the cave you fell down. As you glimpse up, you see tangles of old vines and ropy green that might serve as a handhold to pull you up again . . . if you were to organize a hundred other children and form some kind of elaborate kid-ladder. But as is, you quickly cast away the thought of climbing up the sheer, rocky walls to try to reach it. 

(You don't know yet; that's the easy part) 

A shaft of sunlight frames you atop the flowers, surrounded by pools of deep darkness. It takes some time for your eyes to adjust, but until they do, the flowers are radiant gold, and the caves around an absolute black. You cradle your head, a soft sound in the back of your throat. sound in the back of your throat. Hurt and confused, Hurt and confused, ~~we~~ you called for help.

But nobody came.

(Nobody came.)

##  X7

You feel guilty, still.

You wake in the middle of the night crying, the words 'be good, my child' clear as when you first heard them. When she comes into your room and pulls you into her arms you push her away, sure in your grogginess that if you squeeze too hard she will dust in your arms and everything will disappear. 

At breakfast, before school, she advises you take a route that doesn't go past a street. Your face is blank for a moment, but then you remember that is where Asgore lives now. 

(She doesn't understand)

There are no golden flowers on the way to school, but there are some dandylions. You pluck them from the side of the street and stare at them for a moment. In your SOUL, something is resonating. 

But nothing happens. When you cast the flower down, you think of Asriel, alone and . . . 

You're crying. 

(I couldn't understand.)

When you arrive at school, you disregard your nervousness and pick a bathroom. In the mirror, you demand your reflection reveal itself. 

(Who are you expecting to answer back, smart guy?) 

"Shut up!" You hiss, truly angry. At yourself? Real adult. 

. . . Huh? What do you mean?

The bell rings before you can speak in more detail. You storm off to your class. 

They're talking about magic today, but you can't use it, so you zone out and draw scribbles on your paper. Gerson was never really sure how to engage you, and he seems to sense your temperament, because he ignores your acting out, and for a while you think you got away with it. 

"Heya little hero," he calls out to you as you're packing your things and getting ready to march out the door. "Mind staying to chat with a forgetful old coot for a bit?" 

Busted!

You slam the palm of your hand against the side of your skull hard enough that you can feel the impact. Ouch! There might even be a bruise. 

"Woah there, kiddo!" Gerson apparently found that concerning, because in a moment he's grabbing hold of your hand. "Just been a little worried about you. No need to put yourself in hospital. It doesn't take a historian to see that you've got something on your mind." 

You throw out a lame excuse about homework and not getting enough sleep. Gerson isn't buying it. "Frisk." He says. A rarity. Even once he learned your name, Gerson was fond of nicknames. "You got a lot of people who care about you. You've been through a lot. Don't be afraid to lean on them sometimes, yeah? 

You blink the tears out of your eyes, mutter a thank you and rush out the door before Gerson has a chance to object. 

There's something wrong? 

You're walking home. You're alone in the street, sulking and staring at the ground. You stop, look at the sky. Shout, "WAKE UP!" 

(Wake up?) 

It's just you, Frisk.

(Just you?) 

You spend some time on the phone with MK. Their voice is fuzzy and indistinct on speaker, but you ignore the noise and talk about nothing for a few hours. You're hungry for a distraction, and MK can sense it. After what you've done for them, they're happy to oblige. 

Distraction from what? 

Eventually their parents call them away and you're left alone. (You roll your eyes and snort) Sulking, you crawl under the covers. 

You dream. 

The bed is soft beneath your body as it fails. Your lungs hurt as you hold his hand and whisper encouragement that makes your throat scream with every. Word. His fur is soft in your hand but you can't quite recall his words. 

(This isn't your dream?)

. . .

I wake up.


	2. Confusion

##  X1

It's not so much that you trusted him. It would be more accurate to say that it had never occurred to you NOT to trust him. He spoke with confidence and friendliness and so you listened, because why would you not?

Mistake.

As his friendliness pellet hit, you screamed, alarm and pain twining together into momentary terror as you staggered backward, landing hard on the ground, both arms clutching around your heart—the place, it seems, where your SOUL resided. As blackness encroached on all sides, magic 'pellets' rose from the ground around you, to every side, above you. You clamor to your feet as Flowey laughs, skirting its edges, trying to find a way out . . . But there is none. The field of pellets are too dense. 

They're getting closer!

You get away from the edge, trying to get as far from any part. You're in the center now, but it's getting denser. You look up; the pellets are closing in from above. Someone far away is crying, screaming, but you can't listen. You need to get down. You crouch as it reaches your head level, you pull your arms inward as its closes in. Desperate, you call out for help. I answer.

You close your eyes and wait for death. But when you do . . . Something happened.

Something deep, something boundless inside you quivered and opened and sang. You realized you did not want to die. Therefore, you could not die. How could you allow yourself to die? It was senseless and strange and inexplicable. People died. Plants withered. But not _you._ For a moment you felt like a god, at the helm of the universe, all things and all laws laid out before you. The sun will rise in the morning. Flowers will bloom in the spring. But you will never die.  You're filled with DETERMINATION.

The pain was gone.

You felt at the hole that Flowey's pellet had made in your side. There was no blood anymore, not even a hole in your shirt. You looked up . . . The pellet field was gone. Finally your eyes fell on Flowey. He was squinting, looking about as baffled as you felt. You should have run, probably, but you didn't maybe for the same reason that he didn't immediately try to kill you again. Neither you nor he could understand how you still lived.

Then the fire came out of of nowhere and blew the homicidal flower away.

* * *

Her name was Toriel. _She knows what's best for you._ So you lower the stick you'd grabbed off the floor and let her approach, but you're still tense. You try not to let it show, but you still remember Flowey's betrayal, and it has your guard up. You wait for her to give your doubts justification. She does not.

She sounds warm and fussy, like a grandmother. Her hand is big, and when she pulls you across the spikes you can feel the strength of her . . . But her grasp is gentle and yielding. In her, you find shelter and a promise of safety. Still your instincts scream to be cautious, but you're like a moth, and she's a light. When she's there, you understand. Everything is going to be okay.

Then she leaves. Of _course_ she does.

You stay still, yawn, take a nap against the side of the pillar. The sound of running water and the slow swirling of leaves a lullaby as you drift off to sleep. And then wake up again. You rub your eyes, yawn, and . . . Toriel's still not there, and your stomach is starting to growl, now. _She shouldn't leave you this long! That's not like her!_ You shake your head sharply and remind yourself you've barely known her for an hour, but you feel like you've known her forever. You shake your head, clap your palms against your cheeks and stand up and grab your stick from your pocket, the most adorable adventurer ever.

You look around, but there's no one else here. Just you.

You decide to venture out on your own, try to catch up with her. She soon finds her phone, but when you call for help to learn how to get through the RUINs, she urges you to wait. Wait a little longer. Just a little bit more. But you had had enough waiting on the surface, and the delay was starting to make you suspicious again.

You are beset by monsters almost immediately. You remember Toriel's instructions and, hoping against hope, try to talk to them. Try to buy time. You cry out. You run, when you can. But there's always more monsters! "Toriel! TORIEL! MOM!" You stagger at the last one, and a bullet pierces your SOUL. Your body slumps to the ground and monsters gather around your body. Your SOUL disconnects from your body. For a moment you hang suspended, cut off from sensation, from reality. From everything.

It's cold. It's empty. It's familiar.

You feel a deep yearning. A desperation. This can't be it! It can't be over! I don't want to die!

I! DON'T! WANT! TO! DIE!

Awareness fades.

* * *

You cannot give up just yet . . .

Chara!

Stay determined . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made the choice not to describe in too much detail conversation and events that happened over the course of the game, because I felt like retreading old ground might be pretty boring to read through. I'm interested to hear what others think about that choice.


	3. Like A Bad Dream

Your first thought: “I should be dead.”

Your second: “I'm not.” You are less shaken by the first thought than you expected, but the second is enough to force your eyes open and glance at the world around you.

Familiar golden flowers sit beneath you, and as you push yourself up to a sitting position you feel them under your hands. Shaking, you clutch your own body, hard, and begin to cry. Your fingernails dig deep into the skin of your arm, and you savor the pain of living as you fall over, eyes closed tight, as your heartbeat hammers in your head. _I'm alive,_ you think, sobbing. _I'm alive. **I'm alive!**_

It was like nothing had happened, nothing at all!

You dare to look around while your hands pad uneasily at your body, finding yourself whole and hearty. You have an uneasy sense of deja-vu as you look around you, and you try to rationalize. Talking flowers? Monsters? Ha! No such thing. Just a dream, is all.

Unsteady, you rise. You'd rather stay and rest, but the flowers aren't exactly a comfy bed, and you want to get out of here. You pass through a door and step into a cavern. The only light to see by was coming from behind Frisk, laying the path in front of them bare but the roof and walls shrouded in dark. In the middle of the path was a golden flower.

"What," you demand, afraid you'll already know the answer, "Are YOU?"

"Howdy!"

"I'm Flowey! Flowey the Flower."

You staggered backwards, why, why again? What's happened? How does he remember? Shaky, pale, you begin to _understand._ It happened. **You died.**

But then the events changed. Flowey narrowed his eyes and gave a happy little giggle, his smile curling into a smirk. "Why'd you make me introduce myself? It's rude to act like you don't know who I am."

You stepped back, full of fear, and squeaked.

* * *

Toriel saved you again. You wondered if it this all might be a dream within a dream. But . . . it hurt too much for that, you thought. You don't say much to Toriel this time; you're in shock, mostly, and you welcome the sound of her voice and her guidance to distract you from your return from death. 

When she leaves you behind, you try to convince her to take you with her, but she is convinced that she will be back soon from whatever her errands are, and you don't want to tell her why you want to come with. Very soon, you're alone again in the room with the pillar and your own thoughts. 

Alone now, wary now, you feel something odd in the center of your chest. You close your eyes and hold both your hands over your SOUL, imagining it to be some wound, but it's not. There's something bright and burning under your skin. It burns, but it doesn't hurt. Deep in your SOUL, you feel something unshakable. Unbreakable. Unmovable. You can't bear to think about it in straight lines. When you try to imagine touching it it feels like holding the world in your hands.

This vast, this sprawling underground, full of monsters and mystery and danger, scares you. But somehow . . . as you close your eyes . . .

You're filled with DETERMINATION

* * *

Mom isn't here to make them go away anymore. You think; there's no point in talking, if she can't come in and wave them away. You need to defend yourself. 

A froggit finds you and you tighten your grip on your stick until it hurts your palm. It's pretty clumsy; which is for the best really, because so are you. Several of its bullets hit you hard, and in no time you feel yourself limping. But then you're there, and slamming the stick across his body, again, and again, and . . . One last time you bring down the stick, but the froggit doesn't really _fall down._ One moment it's there, the next it's gone, and you don't quite understand where it went. You look down, seeing a pile of shimmering white dust.

It looks beautiful. When you understand what you've done something tries to crawl up your throat and you slap a hand over your mouth, trying to keep it in. It . . . Doesn't matter. You fall to your knees and leave some half-digested stale bread all over the ground. In spite of everything, you find yourself clinging to the words that Flowey left you.

Kill or be killed.

With a shaking hand you lower your weapon and take a shuddering breath. You stand up, straighten your back and keep moving.

* * *

The Whimsums and Moldsmols are so pathetic and harmless that you feel obligated to let them go. Their hearts really don't seem to have been in the fight. You could respect that . . . Neither was yours. But there were plenty who made it clear they weren't going to let you pass easy. You took care of them. Your EXP rose, and as it did, your LOVE rose. You could feel it rising . . . Which seemed a little weird? But fights were getting easier, and you could feel yourself getting tougher, so it couldn't be a bad thing.

As a vegetoid killed you and you woke up again, not back at the beginning, but in a little later, you felt justified. You weren't about to just roll over and die, not for them. Not for _anyone._

* * *

Be...Good...

My...Child...

Her body evaporates before your eyes, and you fall to your knees. Above her dust floatings a delicate white SOUL. It shines, so bright, so precious . . . And cracks. Disperses. Toriel's dead. Mom's dead.

Limp, the toy knife falls from your fingers to the ground. Death is what you are. Death for anyone who stands in your way. Death for anyone who loves you. Kill or be killed.

Angry, you kick at her dust. "WHY?" You scream. "WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP?" You sob. "Why did you fight me?" You collapse, knees falling into what might as well but Toriel's corpse. You can't bring youself to care. You grab what you can in your hands and shut your eyes. Tears run down your face. "Why . . . ?" Comes out in a whisper. "I didn't want to kill you."

"I just want to go home . . ."

The dust does not answer.

All alone, you hold your head in your hands and cry.


	4. Its Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk goes to Monster Kid's birthday party on the surface.

##  X8

I stayed still, waiting for you to think something. But you didn't. It took me a while to realize . . . Frisk, you were dreaming. And I was awake. It didn't make any sense. You were Frisk, and I was . . . 

I didn't like being left alone with that question. It was easy, when we were awake together, to hide behind you. To live inside you. To swim between your thoughts and nestle myself deep inside who you are, what you think, what you want. But now I was awake, and you were asleep. I felt naked and scared, alone with myself. . . 

Who is 'myself?' I didn't understand. I knew you, Frisk. But I didn't know me. All I remembered being was part of _you._ I felt like I'd lost something precious. I was so scared . . . I couldn't move. I couldn't dare. I pulled the covers back over your head, shut your eyes and tried to forget that I was me.

* * *

I drifted off eventually. The next time I woke up, you were awake too, and I was with you again, sliding through your thoughts, sitting comfortably in the background. But I couldn't forget that I was me any more than I could forget that you were you. I played my regular role. I chattered at you and tried hard not to understand as you reminded me that we weren't the same. 

I was loud and chatty, more than I'd ever been before. Because, if I was quiet, the same question tried to burn its way into my thoughts . . . 

Who am I?

* * *

You'd noticed, hadn't you? . . . Huh? That part's fuzzy?

Well, I thought you'd noticed. But I tried to keep things the same, like nothing's changed . . . I know that look. I have a lot of things to apologize for. But not this. 

It's so easy for you to be someone. Be yourself. You've lived inside yourself forever, and you've only been dead for a couple seconds, at least. After you spend long enough in the dark, you forget how to be you.

I understand that Frisk doesn't get it, but _you_ do, right?

Thought so. In any case . . .

It got especially bad when we went to MK's birthday party.

* * *

Mom had a hangup. She didn't really see the point of cars, since she could fly. She got a little harness and carried you around in it wherever you had to go for a while. She didn't really understand when you started to insist that PAPYRUS drive you around instead, and she had made it her mission to gather as much scary car statistics as she could to convince you not to ride them.

But you were thirteen now, and you had a dignity that couldn't be maintained by sitting in Mom's pouch like a kangaroo kit. So, you went with PAPYRUS in his deathtrap convertible whenever you could.

(Don't look at me like that. How can YOU feel safe?)

"Frisk!" PAPYRUS turned toward you. His 'skull,' made of flexible monster 'magic,' stretched into an expression of pride. "I was so afraid that I had damaged you! That after me, none could fill the empty friend-void instead you!"

Unwilling to lie to him today, you smiled politely fidgeted and said nothing. He meant well, but gods, PAPYRUS could be tiring sometimes . . .

"But look at you! Already so many friends! Soon, you'll find the one!" He turned back to the road, reached over and let his bony hand rest on top of your head. "With my help, soon, you'll find a true second-best friend!!"

(Oh my god, he ran right through a yellow light!)

Though it isn't funny, you snort into your hands. PAPYRUS ruffles your hair a moment before finally putting both hands on the wheel. "This is the place!"

You grab hold of your present . . . It's long, and almost as tall as you are, so it takes some awkward finagling carry it out of the car. When the skeleton offers to help your mouth makes a line and you shake your head decidedly _no._ You've decided you're going to carry it in and so you _will._

MK's house isn't too ostentatious. They're no royalty, and so had been among many monsters that had been regaled to a handful of community housing developments that Toriel had managed to negotiate needy monsters into. It was a little like an apartment complex. A handful of rooms each, except the monsters were community in a way that the humans had not been, and so they so easily found themselves spilling out and into each other's space.

You didn't have much time to mull on it though, because from the moment you stepped out a crowd had started to rush out and around you. MK was there, chattering their welcome while the other kids gawked at the largeness of your present. There . . . weren't all that many people there, it turned out. You'd been expecting a dozen, at least, but near as you could tell maybe five people had come. You wondered how many MK had invited.

"Yo, I'm so glad you're here!" And they're bouncing so much you crack and smile and warn them not to fall over. The other kids laugh and MK rolls their eyes, puffs up their cheeks. "You're the worst!!! Come in, it's too cold."

You ask if this is everybody.

MK looks away. "Yep." Hm . . .

There are basically, as far as you can tell, only four rooms in MK's house. Two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and that's all. You remember how much space you have, just between yourself and Toriel. For a moment you rub at your elbow and stare at the ground.

Opening the presents is a little awkward. Kid is super good with using their teeth and feet to open most of the presents, but yours is too big and cumbersome for them to open with any ease. You wish you'd noticed that . . . You have to tear some of it open and help them take it out. It's one of those dance pad games. Their eyes light up as they say "YOOO!" And throw themselves at you. By now you've learned to interpret it as a hug, so you recorpicate. "I love it! This is, like, the best birthday ever!" You clutch hard onto their shirt until your hands turn white, tears roll down your face. "I love it, Chara, now we match! You're the best friend ever!"

"Frisk?" MK seems confused. Awkward? "Can you, um, let me go?" You pry your hands away from them and step back. Everyone is staring at you as you wipe your eyes. Faces full of concern. Something chokes up inside you, your knees buckle. You take off in a run, pushing past the other kids and out the door. Vaulting over the edge of the railing and landing in an easy roll on the ground a floor below, you're off, past the houses, into the undeveloped woods as voices call out behind you. 

. . . Huh? What do you mean, 'you didn't do that?'

I push forward and you pull back. We trip, skid our knee on the ground, but I can tell you apart from me, now. You're angry and panicked and sad and betrayed and always pushing back; stay still, turn around. But still, I run, carrying you with me. You're hissing now, yelling now, begging now. Calling out into the woods with a familiar name.

Just you, Frisk. Just. You.

You keep running.

**Author's Note:**

> As this is my first attempt on putting anything at all on Ao3, please have Mercy for any obvious mistakes that I may have made.


End file.
